Holiday Beginnings
by cheride
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, 1983. Maybe the tree in the den needs just a little bit more.


_**Holiday Beginnings**_- _Cheride_

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The characters and concepts of Hardcastle & McCormick do not belong to me, but to their creators._

_Rating: K+_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** In ATCBT, much ado transpires over a couple of simple ornaments. But Mark never said much about how they came to be in the house in the first place. 

Thanks to L.M. Lewis for taking the time to give this the once-over, even in the midst of her own creative endeavors, not to mention all the holiday bustle, too. She's like a gift all year long.

* * *

"McCormick, will you quit starin' at those lights? Jeez, you'd think you'd never seen a Christmas tree before."

Hardcastle immediately regretted his words. From what little he knew, it seemed a pretty safe bet that the kid didn't have a whole lot of happy holiday memories. And he was pretty sure that the tree he'd had the last couple of years was nothing like this one.

As if reading his mind, McCormick replied, "Well, not _never_, but the last coupla years it's been a fake five-footer in the common room. It was missing some branches, so it had to be turned just so, to keep the bare spots against the wall." He hadn't looked at the judge yet.

"And last year, Ronnie Nyze got a little crazy and wrapped a strand of lights around Bobby Joe's neck; they took all the lights off the thing after that."

When McCormick finally turned, his face was arranged into a bland mask. "But, don't worry, Hardcase; I already did my chores."

"I wasn't worried about that," Hardcastle said, dropping into the chair next to the young man, "I just don't want you givin' yourself some kind of brain seizure, or something, from all the blinking." He paused. "But you really did your chores?"

McCormick laughed, and Hardcastle was relieved to find that the sound was completely natural. He realized that he had grown accustomed to the kid's mood swings in the past few months, though he was mostly clueless about how to keep the smile on the young face. But he liked it better when he managed it, even if he didn't understand it.

He hadn't yet figured out why it mattered.

00000

"You have a one track mind, Judge," McCormick accused with a grin. "But, yes, all done. The pool is skimmed, the dishes have been done, —breakfast _and_ lunch—and the 'Vette is washed."

Personally, McCormick had figured the to-do list had been intentionally short today to give him a break for the holiday, though the idea still sort of surprised him. Really, a lot about the last couple of weeks had surprised him. The way Hardcastle had suggested out of the blue one day they go get a tree; the almost cheery way he had argued over which Christmas carols to listen to in the car; and just yesterday they had gone to the store to shop for tomorrow's dinner. They hadn't been able to decide on ham or turkey, so they'd gotten a small one of each, along with all the fixin's, and the whole thing just continued to amaze the ex-con.

Of course, in the past few months he had realized that Hardcastle really wasn't the guy he'd always thought, though exactly _who_ he was remained something of a mystery. McCormick thought the biggest mystery of all, though, was why it mattered.

00000

They had lapsed into silence; the only sound was the radio playing softly in the background. McCormick seemed truly content to sit in the dim room and just watch the lights on the tree for hours on end. Hardcastle marveled at the way such a simple thing could bring such joy.

He thought about Mark's comments about the tree in San Quentin, and tried not to think about how the kid would've tried hard to make the best of even _that_ situation. He found himself hating the idea that in his desire to belong somewhere, McCormick would've believed for even a minute that he belonged _there_.

_He was a convicted felon_, he reminded himself. _He stole a car_. _Where else would he belong?_

Hardcastle pondered that for a moment, then decided that his mind was right. If you steal a car—regardless of the circumstances—you go to jail. Lady justice is a tough old broad. Of _course_ the kid had belonged in jail.

_But now . . ._ He backed away from the thought, examined it fully, decided it was right, too, and thought it all the way through.

_But now he belongs here._

00000

McCormick jumped slightly at the unexpected clap of Hardcastle's hands, and the way the jurist was suddenly on his feet, his face the picture of sheer anticipation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"We need to go to the shopping mall."

"What? Are you crazy? It's Christmas Eve; the place'll be a madhouse." McCormick narrowed his eyes wickedly. "Whattsa matter? Didn't you get me a present yet?"

Hardcastle glared. "Now why would I want you to go along if I was gonna buy you a present?" he growled.

"Oh. I dunno. Okay, so why do we need to go to the mall?"

The judge gestured at the tree. "We need to look at some ornaments."

"You're not makin' a whole lot of sense here," McCormick complained. "The tree's been standing there for two weeks lookin' just fine, and we'll be taking it down in a few days. Why do we need ornaments now? The sales won't start until Monday."

"I'm not lookin' for a sale, McCormick; I'm lookin' for some ornaments."

McCormick got to his feet, already well familiar with the 'no arguments' tone when he heard it. "Well, okay. But can I pick 'em out?"

"Sure you can pick 'em," Hardcastle told him. "That's why we're going."

Mark froze as he was reaching to unplug the tree. After a second, he completed the motion, then turned slowly to look back at the judge.

"Um . . ." He found he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say.

Hardcastle was plowing ahead. "I thought maybe you'd want to find something special to put on the tree," he explained, his face taking on a slightly pink tinge. "I mean, since all of this stuff is kinda mine."

"Well . . ." McCormick knew he was really going to have to figure out something to say pretty soon, but all he kept thinking was, _How does he do that? How does he know?_

Hardcastle seemed to be losing some of his steam. "But, if you don't want to . . ." he was stammering.

"Uh, no," McCormick said quickly, "that's not it." He took a half-second to think, then fell back on his tried and true approach to things he didn't understand.

"But if you're hoping to find some kind of First Christmas Together ornament, or something, Judge, I gotta tell you; I don't think Hallmark makes anything that even comes close to _this_." He grinned, and waited for the whack on the arm.

Hardcastle didn't disappoint, and followed up by shoving the young man toward the door.

"Don't be a smart ass, McCormick, or you're gonna end up with coal in your stocking."

00000

It had taken some time, and three different stores, but they had finally found the perfect ornaments, and Hardcastle had enjoyed the entire process more than he had ever thought possible.

Then, deciding that they were going to have a nice dinner at home tomorrow—and probably leftovers for a while after that—they had opted to stop for pizza before returning to the house. McCormick's giddy good cheer had been infectious, and they had laughed throughout the entire meal.

Now, driving home down the PCH, with the Christmas music playing louder than Hardcastle would normally have tolerated, McCormick said for at least the third time, "I know exactly where we can put the ornaments, Judge. There's a perfect spot right in front."

"Wherever you want, kid," the judge grinned, just as he had the last time. The first time, just to stay in form, he had tried to argue that maybe he wanted to pick the spot for his own ornament, but McCormick had been too exuberant in his explanation of why his idea was better, and Hardcastle had laughingly given in.

"Good," Mark answered, then went back to humming along with the radio.

They pulled up into the driveway, climbed out of the Coyote, and started up the porch steps.

Hardcastle glanced at his watch as McCormick unlocked the front door. "We'll even have time to catch the movie before Santa comes."

"Yeah, and I think there's some of those cookies left that Sarah sent." McCormick glanced behind him at the other man as they stepped into the den. "But no John Wayne tonight, right?"

"Nah, we'll find _Miracle on 34th Street_, or something."

"Perfect."

Hardcastle grinned as McCormick crossed the room comfortably, not bothering with the lights, and then lit the tree, bringing a pleasant glow to the room.

The young man smiled as he pointed to one of the branches. "See? It's perfect." He reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out two small boxes, holding one out toward the older man. "C'mon, Judge, you gotta hang yours."

"You can go ahead," Hardcastle answered, moving toward his chair.

"Oh, come on, Hardcase, it'll just take a minute." The smile didn't fade, but the blue eyes were suddenly serious. "We gotta do it together."

The judge wondered briefly what had led McCormick to say that, though he knew instinctively it wasn't something he could ask. And, just as instinctively, he realized the kid was right. He moved to take the offered box.

They tossed the lids aside, and pulled the ornaments from their boxes.

Hardcastle pointed at a branch. "Here?"

McCormick's smile lit his face. "Yeah." He paused, then added, "Merry Christmas, Judge."

"Merry Christmas, kiddo."

And as they proudly placed their new ornaments, Hardcastle saw that McCormick had been right about this, too. They looked as if they had belonged there all along, the tiny gavel hanging perfectly next to the tiny red racecar.


End file.
